Lack of Clarity
by Cerulean.Phoenix7
Summary: Captured by an alien species, Janeway and Chakotay learn that there is no light without darkness. *COMPLETE*
1. Part I

Lack of Clarity

A/N: This is set mid-way through Voyager's fifth season and deals with the capture of Janeway and Chakotay by a xenophobic alien race known as the D'Chasther (pronounced De-Chast-Her). A warning that this piece does contain mentions of and brief scenes of torture.

This is a piece in four parts and will be updated every two days until completion.

This story started out as an idea that I had months ago to test Janeway and Chakotay's friendship. While working on this story, I read another story called _Best of Strangers_ by Dax's10thHost. That story made me take a good look at these two, and some of those thoughts helped to shape the latter half of this story. For making me think, Dax, I thank you.

A huge thanks to my fantastic beta, Uroboros75, for the speedy beta work on this piece.

Music: Colorful Mind – Broken Iris

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

He wakes to shadows creeping along the walls.

His vision is filled with blurs of black and slate, morphing into each other before he can even determine where one ends and another begins. They stretch on before him, endless, infinite, like helices of obsidian eternity.

The notion makes his blood run cold.

He feels disoriented, displaced, and a slew of other sensations that he can't seem to identify. There's weight on his shoulders, pressing against the tops of his feet, the front of his shins. It doesn't take him long to realize that he's being dragged.

_Dragged where_? He asks no one, and everyone.

There's sound now, his ears reacting to the cacophony of voices around him. The sounds range from guttural to insidious, and each one spews out another stream of words in a tongue that he doesn't know.

The pain he feels next comes without warning, a sudden storm that bites up his calves and into his thighs. His shoulders burn, but the throbbing ache in his temple exceeds them all as it pounds with the ferocity of a dozen war drums against his skull. As time progresses the pain doesn't abate, crawling into his muscles, a festering gangrene.

Eventually, all movement stops, and the pressure on his legs and shoulders ease, leaving him in a moment of terrifying limbo before his body meets a hard surface; it's dry, a cloud of dust or dirt swirling against his skin. He tries to move and finds that he can only do so slowly without half of his body protesting. He spends a few minutes blinking away the shadows in his vision until at last they depart his company and leave him to his solitude, a solitude that exists in a foreign cell.

He takes stock of his surroundings, the memories wafting into his consciousness like fog. They take shape slowly, molded by a lack of clarity rather than his intuition. Pieces join together, mapping out the puzzle that showcase his current predicament, a predicament that becomes much more serious when he realizes that he wasn't _alone_ in his mission.

_Kathryn_, he thinks, searching the corridor beyond the cell and letting out a heavy sigh when he finds nothing.

They had been trying to negotiate with a species called the D'Chasther, an incredibly xenophobic race that had refused to allow them passage through their space and responded to their inquiries with a firefight. Apparently, their own fears lead them to violence for the sake of their secrecy. He and Kathryn had been returning from a mission to gather supplies in a nearby system when they encountered the ship. It overpowered them and took them aboard as prisoners. He'd tried to protect her, to keep her out of harm's way.

They took her anyway.

Now he has no combadge, no phaser; nothing that he can use to contact _Voyager_ or devise an escape plan, and no captain to bring back to the people that need her guidance on these turbulent seas. He feels nothing short of defeat, and his thoughts soon turn from worry to dark imaginings of where Kathryn might be and what they are doing to her. He hopes to whatever Spirits may be watching that the screams he hears never turn out be hers.

He can't understand why they would take them when they fear outsiders. If they were such a threat to their existence, then why take them into custody and hold them here?

Unless…

_They want to use us or our technology to keep outsiders away_, Chakotay realizes, a dark fear burrowing into his skin. If there was anyone who knew _Voyager_ or her technology best, it was her Captain.

From the looks of the cell he's in, he can tell what kind of allure Starfleet technology would have to them. The lighting is typical (which essentially means it is poor), and the barrier at the threshold of the cell is a force field emitted by an orange band that wraps around the entrance. It's nothing short of impenetrable, and leaves no evident route for escape. It makes Chakotay want to rip down the walls in frustration; he will _not_ allow them to destroy his captain while he sits here like an animal in a corral.

He punches the bulkhead, _hard_. The shock reverberates through his body, echoing through his bones and it feels _good_. He's at least doing something, not just sitting around moping; he will never back down if there's something that can be done.

Over the pounding of his fists he hears something else.

Footsteps.

He ceases his venting and moves cautiously towards the entrance, where he can see shadows lurking over the floor of the corridor. There's a tall form, humanoid, but with a few too many arms to be human, and there is also a smaller shadow that is lead alongside the taller one, struggling to keep up.

The guard rounds the corner and stops at Chakotay's cell, where he finally sees who the guard was escorting.

Her hair is disheveled, her uniform torn and bloodied. Her face is marred by dirt and a smattering of bruises. If he had a phaser, this D'Chasther would be dead seconds after that force field went down. The guard trains his weapon on Chakotay before pressing a few keys on the panel outside the cell.

"What did you do to her?" Chakotay asks, hands curling into even tighter fists at his side.

The alien studies him for a moment, then deactivates the force field and throws Kathryn into the cell. She stumbles, her balance thrown, and he manages to catch her before she falls into the dirt at his feet. She lets out a groan of pain and sinks into his arms, too weak or too hurt to put up any sort of fight.

The guard says nothing, only narrowing its fuchsia eyes at the command team and re-establishes the force field before moving off, its feet crunching the dirt beneath them as if it were made of bones.

Chakotay takes her over to the bunk on the one side of the room, gently lifting her up onto its surface before clearing her hair away from her face. There's a gash above her right eye, a crimson talon that curves along her brow bone. Her skin is speckled with dust and dirt, but what prickles the flesh on Chakotay's neck are the marks, the bruises that sneak over her cheekbones and mar her jaw line. The marks are an angry red, a sign that they are recent. Her eyes are barely open, the lashes shiny in the dim light; he wonders if she's been crying.

He takes her hand, which she clasps as she blinks in the light of the cell. "Kathryn," he whispers. "It's me; it's Chakotay."

She groans before opening her eyes fully, the irises a stark blue against her skin. She lets out a sigh before repeating his name, then closes her eyes again as she nibbles her lower lip for an instant.

"Where are we?" she asks.

"What I would assume is a D'Chasther holding facility. They captured us after they overwhelmed the shuttle. Do you remember?"

She says nothing for a moment; then pushes herself into a seated position, much to Chakotay's chagrin. She always pushes herself too hard, and even in cases of hostile capture, she stills drives herself beyond the very notion of limits.

"...Yes," she answers as she runs a hand along her temple, her finger grazing the mark along her brow. "We were separated. The D'Chasther took me for int–" She stops short, but he already knows what she means, the marks on her face say more words than she ever could. "For some questions," she finishes, releasing his hand.

"About what?" Chakotay asks as she swings her legs over the side of the bed. "What do they want with us?"

"_Voyager_," Janeway replies, stifling a groan of pain that he hears anyway. He places a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to take it easy for a little, and her eyes acknowledge it with a stern look into his. She looks back out to the doorway of the cell before continuing. "All they kept asking me about was our technology, how it worked. They wanted to know about our weapons, transporters, propulsion, replication technology; they wanted the whole damn ship's outline!"

"Did you tell them?" he asks cautiously, knowing that Kathryn would be very hesitant to admit that she has a breaking point, even more so that someone actually _found_ it.

"No," she answers, hands planted at her sides. "They can ask all they want, but they'll never get anything out of me." She leans forward slightly, causing her hair to fall around her face, hiding it from Chakotay.

He settles himself on the bunk next to her and reaches for her face, carefully placing a curved finger beneath her chin to raise her gaze. She lets him, and he's almost surprised that she's allowing such a thing. "Did they do this?" he asks, motioning to the marks on her face.

"The D'Chasther aren't a particularly patient people," she replies solemnly.

"Kathryn…" he begins, but she cuts him off.

"I'm fine," she admonishes, jerking away from his hand.

He refuses to take her resistance as a reply, pressing forward with his words out of care rather than curiosity. "Kathryn," he says gently. "You are _not_ fine. You were beaten by an alien race that we know hardly anything about."

"I know very well what they did to me, Chakotay," she hisses before looking into his eyes. The blue of her irises is shadowed with glistening ghosts of something that she has yet to divulge, and his instincts tell him that that information will be far from pleasant.

"The D'Chasther don't just favor their fists in interrogations," Janeway says, folding her hands in front of her as her eyes disappear beneath the auburn curtain of her hair. "They also seem partial to some sort of… electric shock weapon."

Horror fills him, eating away at his senses as he imagines nightmarish technologies from the darkest ages of history. He moves to sit next to Kathryn and places one of his hands over her clasped ones. "Did they use it on you?" he asks gently, wanting more than ever to simply wrap her in his arms and take her from this dreaded place.

"Once," she answers, and her voice ripples through the air with the admission. Her hands drift apart, letting his fall to her side as she reaches to her right side and places her hand on her ribs. It takes him only moments to understand, and it rips into him with ferocity. They had hurt Kathryn and he had been here in the cell, unable to help her or protect her.

"How bad is it?" he asks, reaching out a hand that she stops. She turns her eyes back to him, and something inside him whispers that she is trying to keep a certain distance for the time being. They may only be friends, but their friendship has developed a certain closeness that could be used as leverage by less favourable parties should the opportunity arise. He drops his hand and she settles her own across her lap.

"It hurts like hell," she confesses after a moment. "But it's nothing that I can't handle."

Chakotay knows that voice, that tone that she uses like a cloak in her emotional charades. She's drawing from strength, but her admission whispers that the injury is something that she _must_ handle until they are rescued.

"_Voyager_ will come looking for us," she says. "We've been gone more than forty-eight hours; Tuvok will suspect that something has gone wrong."

"Even if that's the case, how will they find us? The D'Chasther captured the shuttle and we have no way of communicating with _Voyager_."

"Evidence is everything," she replies swiftly, a hand curling beneath her chin. She reduces her voice to a whisper before continuing. "The D'Chasther didn't destroy the shuttle, so Voyager will have little ground to assume that we're dead. Hopefully they'll follow the ion trail of the D'Chasther here."

"It still leaves a lot to chance," Chakotay answers in his own hushed tone.

Before Janeway can answer, there is the sound of footsteps treading along the corridor, accompanied by another ominous sound that neither one of them can place. The sound grows, growling against Chakotay's reserves of patience and control.

He's about to move for the entry when Kathryn takes his face in her hands. She moves his face so that he is facing her, and the expression in her eyes is that of his captain, drawing from everything that she has left.

"Listen to me," she says, her tone serious and unwavering. "They will come for you, Chakotay. They would not have kept you alive otherwise." The pressure of her palms against his skin intensifies slightly. "Promise me that you will tell them nothing. Promise me that," she pleads, and through the shock of such a raw command he manages to nod, gently moving her hands away from his face. Her expression is fatigued, even as she tries to hide it. Her eyebrows slant downwards at the ends, tapering out at the edges of her anxiety.

He wouldn't let them destroy Kathryn Janeway or _Voyager_.

"I won't," he answers, placing his hands over hers before moving them away from his face. Promise is a thing of great significance to him, almost sacred in its bonds. It is only as strong as the links that are its foundations; one small slip can tear the entire thing apart.

He doesn't intend to be that fatal break.

Kathryn quickly moves her hands away as the footsteps grow louder, silenced only when two monsters of guards stand before their cell. Their armor gives little away, their entire identities shut away like secrets long preserved. It's a justification of their xenophobia, as well as a custom meant to stir unease in the air around them. They stare at Chakotay and Kathryn for a moment before speaking, and Chakotay is shocked when they speak their words in English.

"You," one of the guards says, motioning at Chakotay. "Come with us." Their tone is even, heavy like titanium and equally lifeless. He briefly looks towards Kathryn, whose own shock is painted across her face in colors less vivid than his own, masking most of it to the untrained eye.

Her expression is unwavering, lips pressed into a tight line as her eyes watch him. They are icy against her skin, frozen by the dreadful notion of what awaits them in this incarceration. He feels his own sense of dread, though he knows that if he wants to ensure their survival he must cooperate.

He stands and moves towards the opening, where the force field fizzles for a moment before going out. Their weapons are already raised; one aimed at him and another pointed in a direction that would surely meet Kathryn's body if fired. He steps over the threshold, his movements careful and slow. He eases into caution for not only his own sake but for the sake of time, as if a few more seconds will spare them from some of the trials they could face in this labyrinth.

He looks back into the cell for a moment before the guards shove him forward, sending him stumbling into the gritty light beyond. In the moment before he saw Kathryn sitting on the bunk watching him, eyes fixed on him with something he can't define rumbling within them.


	2. Part II

A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews :)

* * *

The room reeks of fear.

It's dark, and the walls are alight with flickers of shadow and slivers of light. Patterns that conjure up nightmares slice across the walls, staking their claim in this madness.

Chakotay is bound to a chair, the sole piece of furniture adorning the room. He tries to keep his breathing even and cast panic to the farthest corners of his mind, but his heart has other plans, announcing them with a furious beat within his chest.

He notices a glint of color in the darkness beyond him, twin pearls that glare at him. They draw closer, billowing into large fuchsia eyes. They are perched on limbs of darkness, stalking him like hungry jaguars. The shadows conform to shapes, wrangling their chaos into order before him. The guard now wears the same armor as the one he saw earlier, an exact mirror of the guard who threw him in the cell.

Chakotay steadies himself, his lungs billowing with the dry air before releasing a calming breath. He only has a vague idea of what to expect, but if it is anything like his experience with the Kazon, it will be far from pleasant.

"Where is your ship?" the guard asks, skipping any introductions.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he responds quickly, keeping his eyes fixed on the D'Chasther guard.

"That's a lie," the guard replies, marching up to him. There is no warning for the fist that makes contact with Chakotay's jaw, sending an inferno blazing up the left side of his face and into his temple. He coughs once, spitting red onto the floor nearby.

"I don't like lies," the guard replies, cracking what Chakotay surmises are its knuckles.

"If you want cooperation you aren't going to get it by beating me or my captain," Chakotay quips.

The fuchsia in its irises glimmer, narrowed to slits by slanted eyelids that peek out from beneath the armor. Silence fills the room, giving way only to the heavy breathing of the guard. The armor creates an echo around it, deepening the tone severely; it reminds Chakotay of a rhinoceros waiting to charge.

"You take yourself far too seriously, _human_," its voice grumbles beneath the armor, rumbling with a storm of fury. "I do not want your _cooperation_; I want _answers_," he turns away, armor grinding fiercely and disappears into the blackness again.

Chakotay hears his footsteps continue on for a moment…another. Then a pause, swishes of a curtain between acts of a horror show. He hears his breathing, rapid and uncontrolled in this room. He can't stop it.

The footsteps start again, accompanied by another sound. Something in that darkness crackles and snaps viciously, accompanying the feet that make their way back to Chakotay. He sees the D'Chasther's eyes first, the fuchsia bright like a poisonous flower. A blue glow hovers nearby, and as the forms take shape once again Chakotay sees what it is.

It makes his stomach fall to the floor.

Kathryn's words come flooding back to him at that moment, words about an electric shock device. He can reach no other explanation for the device the guard holds before him now. Spindles of metal lash together and narrow to a point where a fearsome ball of energy writhes and crackles. Veins of angry aqua hiss and slither through the air, hungry iridescent vipers.

"I want answers," the guard repeats, "and you _will_ give them to me."

* * *

The ground rises to meet him, saluting him with a hard smack to the face. Chakotay groans, a thousand agonies swarming his veins as he pushes himself off the ground.

He vaguely hears Kathryn say his name, and then there is a pair of hands beneath his one shoulder helping him to stand. His vision is peppered with spots and his muscles spark with bursts of painful fire. He somehow manages to stand and makes his way over to the bunk on the far side of the room. He feels Kathryn's hands release his shoulder as he settles himself on the bunk, his mind fuzzy and full of air.

"Hold still," she says to him, her hand grasping his chin gently as she turns his face slightly. His vision evens out a little, enough for him to see dark crescents blooming beneath her eyes. He hasn't been able to count the hours they've been here, but he thinks that it must be a fair number by now.

He tries to move and winces; Kathryn's hand lands firmly on his shoulder. "Easy," she says. "You need to rest for now, Chakotay."

"And what about you?" he asks, remembering the injuries that she sustained earlier. "I'm not the only one who's been subject to the D'Chasther's violent xenophobia; you can't push yourself too hard."

"I'll be fine," she repeats, the crimson gash above her eyebrow flexing slightly.

She doesn't ask him about what happened, about the shock weapon or the questions. He wonders if his body speaks for itself, covered with enough bruises to paint an entire canvas relating what he went through in that interrogation room. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking in his injuries. His entire body aches, but that comes with little surprise. He's slightly shocked that out of all the feelings rushing through his mind, the sensation of dying is remarkably absent.

He knows that he has to hold on a little longer, because with any luck _Voyager_ will be here soon, hopefully bringing hell to the D'Chasther's front door.

"How long was I gone?" he asks after a moment.

"I wish I could tell you," she replies sincerely. "There are no chronometers, no natural sources of light anywhere in here." She throws her hands up in futility before her expression becomes grave, startled by something that Chakotay can't quite place. "I'd say that while you were gone it felt like a few hours went by, at least."

Chakotay sighs, bring a hand up to his forehead. He finds the skin there to be damp, and when he brings his palm away he finds sweat flecked with blood on his palm. He brushes it off on the black of his uniform, discarding the possibility of injury in favor of something a little brighter. That is, if such a thing were even acquirable in a place like this.

"How are you holding up?" he asks, treading carefully. Kathryn moves to sit next to him on the bunk, keeping a respectful distance despite earlier events. She folds her hands in front her, clasping the fingers together with a sigh the falls with the weight of lead.

"I'm… alright," she admits after a moment, her voice even like smooth titanium. She turns to him, her expression gentle yet reserved. "You?"

"I've felt better," he admits.

There's a pause that draws out into uncomfortable silence, amplified further by the haunting echoes of unidentifiable sounds that drift down the corridor outside the cell.

"We've got to..." she begins, her voice sharp like a knife. Then, she pauses and that sharpness wanes. "We've got to hold on until _Voyager_ gets here."

He knows that she's right, and he envies her slightly for such an unabashed hope. She operates on a mindset of _musts_, not possibilities. He can imagine that from her perspective, there is no chance of them not being rescued; she expects it. It's a facade meant for the both of them, and he's seen her use it before. He cannot help but cast a shade of doubt onto her infallible determination. Even if _Voyager_ did find the ion trail of the D'Chasther ship and followed it, there were thousands upon thousands of ways for things to go wrong. He doesn't want that; then again, no one would. Yet he has to keep realism close in times like these.

"I know," he says, the words feeling tight like a taut elastic band. Caution is evidently prudent in a situation like this, but they can't just go around pretending like everything is going to be alright for the sake of their own sanity. This place is a haven for demons and death, and if they want to survive this prison, they must keep in mind what it may take.

"Kathryn," he says, reaching a hand out for hers. He clasps his hand over hers before she can pull away, and her eyes fall first to their joined hands before turning up to his face.

"What?" she asks briskly, the shadow of a captain's face haunting her expression.

"Even if _Voyager_ is on its way here now, we have to consider the possibility that they _aren't_ on their way here as well," he says grimly.

Her expression changes instantly, morphing from stern curiosity to a sharp disappointment. Her infamous glare returns, grazing against Chakotay's skin like a knife. He knows that she'll dislike the notion as much (if not more) as he does, but it's not something that they can simply ignore in a place like this.

She stands, brushing his hand away and places her own on her hips. "Then what would you have me do, Chakotay? Give up all hope of a rescue to the fate of dying in this wretched place? I won't accept that."

"I want out of here just as much as you do, but if we want to make it out of here then we have to start taking a more realistic look at things. Take the lack of water, for instance," he points out. "We've been here at least a day; our bodies won't be able to cope much longer without water."

"But why would they do that?" Janeway asks, accentuating her words with gestures of her right hand. "We are their hostages, and if what they want is information, they won't be able to get that from us if we're dead."

"Unless they already have the information they need," Chakotay says dryly.

Janeway's face pales, her skin taking on the hue of cold steel. The look on her face gives the impression that she's just been slapped. It makes Chakotay realize the implications of his words, and though he never intended to, they have a touch of truth to them. He can only guess by her expression that Kathryn thinks that said information came from a source other than their captured shuttlecraft.

"You didn't," she hisses, her fingers curling tightly in the air.

"I –"

"I gave you an order," she interrupts, her voice laced with venom.

He's almost offended by her tone, her words carrying the same attitude that she's always had: orders, orders, orders. This isn't a starship, and orders will do them no damn good here.

"That's what you always say," he retorts, his voice growing in the confines of the cell. "You always narrow every choice down to matter of orders and protocol; I'd like to be like that too, but sometimes it just isn't possible!"

"Then why didn't you lie?" she asks, encroaching on his space, her face close to his. "Why didn't you tell them something just to satisfy their violent rage? They have nothing to compare our information to for any verification. The shuttle's logs are encrypted and the stations sealed; I made sure of it."

"You don't think I tried that?" he replied, meeting her gaze. His words hold a morsel of truth, but they still taste like ash on his tongue. "The D'Chasther seem to have some sort of ability to sense lies."

"You mean they're _empathic_?" Kathryn asks incredulously, her hand reaching out to grip his shoulder.

"I'm not sure," he admits with a shake of his head, feeling the lies circling him like vultures awaiting the demise of their prey.

Kathryn shakes her head, her hand leaving his shoulder and coming up to her temple to ward off what Chakotay suspects is a headache. She steps away from him and paces around the cell, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. She stops beneath one of the fluorescent lights and brings up her other hand to her face. She runs both over her face, pausing when her fingertips reach her lips. Her eyes drift up to the light, casting her face in a mosaic of flickering luminescence as she whispers to the air.

"This changes everything," she says, dropping her hands and curling them against her chest.

"I never said that I was certain about the D'Chasther," Chakotay replies quickly, trying to put Kathryn at whatever ease he can in this sort of situation.

"I'm not talking about the D'Chasther," she snaps, her voice returning to the tone she reserves for situations gone sour, and Chakotay knows that this one must seem like a particularly rotten lemon to her.

"I'm talking about _us_," she says. "About the trust that I had in you when we were first brought here. We cannot afford to just give away information for the sake of our own lives; we have a crew of over a hundred people counting on us to maintain that glass wall that exists between them and this uncharted vacuum of space. If we give that information away so carelessly… how can we protect them?" Her shoulders fall, pulling her expression down with them. "What does that make us, Chakotay?"

"Human," he replies.

She scoffs. "_Human?_ How can we afford to let our own humanity show out here when we're facing species like these?" She gestures outward to imagined D'Chasther guards. "As Starfleet officers we cannot always afford the luxury of humanity. There are times where protocol is the only option."

"There you go with the damn protocols again," he replies tersely, his patience falling like sand through an hourglass. "You've allowed yourself to be more human than you think. Remember all those times when you were merciful to other species because you thought that they deserved a _chance_, like the Ocampa? Or what about when you liberated Seven of Nine from the Collective and began helping her to re-discover her humanity? I'd say that's one of the most human things that you've done on this entire journey. You're a human being, Kathryn, and you cannot deny what you are."

Her gaze meets his with a steel ferocity, anchoring her determination in the stone beneath their feet.

"Is that what it comes down to, Chakotay?" she asks, her voice deadly in its softness. "Do we boil down every decision, every _action_ to a matter of humanity? I can't afford to question every single implication of my actions because it's not convenient." She raises a hand off her hips, casting an ominous shadow on the floor. "Those few seconds that I take to question an action could be the difference between life and death; I _have_ to follow what I know, and what I believe to be right."

"What about the times when you're _wrong_, Kathryn?" Chakotay responds, the words flying from his lips on a will of their own. "Don't you ever just stop and ask yourself if what you're doing is right?"

She recoils from him, her expression icy and distant beneath the fluorescence of the lights above them. "Of course I do," she snaps. "You don't think that I question the scenarios that I put the crew through? There are choices I'm not fond of, Chakotay, but sometimes there are no favorable choices."

"Is that what you tell yourself? That it was the best option that you could find. You've said so yourself that there is always an answer; you just have to find it."

Janeway sighs, running a tired hand through her hair before turning to the exit. "This is ridiculous," she whispers into the stale air. "We're trapped in an alien holding cell and all we're doing is wasting energy fighting over protocol." Her shoulders dip as she lets out another sigh, turning back to him after a moment of silence. "This has to stop."

Chakotay nods, his muscles clamping slightly in response. "I agree."

She approaches the bunk again, stopping just a few paces from him. "We need to focus on surviving. I know we can make it through this, Chakotay. We can, and we will."

"I hope you're right," he answers as realism gnaws on something in a far corner of his mind.

She bends her knees and brings herself to eye-level with him, her expression solemn and lacking any lightness. "We'll get through this, Chakotay. We've done it before and we will do it again." She places a hand on his shoulder, gripping it gently. "Trust me," she whispers.

He doesn't answer, amazed that she's asking him to trust her when only moments ago it seemed that her trust in him had been shattered by his apparent betrayal.

"How much did you tell them?" Janeway adds after a moment, disrupting Chakotay's thoughts. He's caught a little off-guard by her comment because she says with such a calm tone that he imagines a storm of anger brewing beneath her frosty expression.

He doesn't want to admit anything, but for both their sakes he must play this game a little longer.

"I –" he begins, but stops when he hears footsteps pounding through the corridor beyond the walls.

"Chakotay," Janeway says. "How much did you tell them?"

He's frozen in that moment, lost between loyalty and lies. He knows that the truth will have to be said, but he had planned to reveal everything to her once they were back on _Voyager_.

"Kathryn," he whispers, the footsteps now thundering outside their cell, "I lied."

Those are the only words he manages to say to her before the guards take her again.

When she disappears, Chakotay resolves himself to resting and lies down on the bunk, hoping to conserve any of the strength remaining in his body. As he lies there, he thinks of what lies ahead of them now and looks to whatever Spirits may be listening that Kathryn returns. Fatigue soon reaches out for him, and though he tries to resist, it takes him, blocking out the screams of the less fortunate beyond the walls surrounding him.


	3. Part III

He wakes feeling groggy, his muscles cramped and skin cool. His tongue feels like ancient parchment from ages long forgotten, and he has the most incredible thirst he's ever known. He tries to sit up, only to have his body protest in the process. He feels incredibly light-headed the moment he tries to rise, the dizziness only serving to make him feel worse. He wonders for a moment what could be causing these symptoms, but after recalling a prior conversation, it sinks into his mind with the weight of lead.

Dehydration.

He'd warned Kathryn that they wouldn't last long without water, and if his body was beginning to show the signs of it, then so would hers. He turns his head, his vision slightly blurred, and glances out into the cell. Kathryn lies on the floor of the cell, arms sprawled out to the side and facing away from him. He pushes himself off the bunk slowly, taking aching steps towards her as he uses the wall for support. When he reaches her she doesn't answer, her eyes closed to the world. He leans down and gently turns her into the light, causing her to groan.

"Kathryn," he whispers, taking inventory of the latest marks on her face. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she mumbles in response, her eyes fluttering open as Chakotay slips a hand beneath her shoulders and another beneath her knees. He isn't sure if he's strong enough now to lift her, but he needs to get her off the ground and onto the bunk. He pulls her off the ground slowly, her head falling against his shoulder and stumbles back over to the bunk. The few steps there feel drawn out and tainted with pain as his malnourished body struggles at every movement.

Upon setting her down, Chakotay scans her face to look at the latest marks. There aren't many, but what they lack in quantity, they make up for in severity. One lash reaches across her cheek, bisecting her cheekbone and laced with wispy tendrils of blood. Another mars her chin, darkened by whatever blood was spilled there. The last is a dried drop of blood at the corner of her lips, worrying Chakotay more than the others. If she's bleeding internally, they may not have little time left to be saved, and if they had treated Kathryn so badly… what were they planning for him?

"Kathryn," he whispers to her again. "I need you to stay awake. Do you hear me, Kathryn? Stay with me."

Her eyes flick open, the irises dull from exhaustion. "I'm not–" She coughs, blinking in the light. "– going anywhere."

"For the time being, at least," Chakotay answers with a touch of sarcasm. "Hopefully _Voyager_ finds us soon, otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?"

He chooses his words carefully, putting on a serious face before answering. "Your injuries are worse than last time. If we don't get you to the Doctor soon… I'm worried that there will be nothing he – or anyone for that matter – can do."

Kathryn shakes her head, her eyes now open and alert. "Chakotay, listen to me," she says, placing her hand on his. "I will be _fine_. Voyager _will_ find us and get us out of this hell hole, alright?"

He places his other hand over hers and stays silent for a moment; the blind determination that is Kathryn Janeway may very well be the factor that pulls the universe out from beneath her. He doesn't want to bring another bout of realism into this out of desire to avoid another fight, but she has to know.

"Kathryn," he whispers. "The dehydration is starting to settle in."

Her expression changes, her features riddled with concern as her eyes focus on him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that when I woke up just a few moments ago, I felt light-headed. Weakness and thirst are settling in too. It won't be long before the nausea starts."

"I did feel a little… dizzy at one point," she admits.

"That's the dehydration affecting your body," he explains.

She reaches for his shoulder suddenly, trying to pull herself up but he stops her. "Take it easy," he says, noticing a redness curling over her skin. "If you push yourself too hard, things will only get worse."

She doesn't answer him.

"Kathryn?" he asks, shaking her shoulder gently. A hushed moan answers him, her body still. "Kathryn, don't you dare quit on me," he hisses, jostling her shoulder a little more firmly. He feels a lightness enter his body again, his head spinning in the air as he tries to wake Kathryn.

She rolls her head to the side, eyelids flickering slightly. Chakotay presses a hand against the wall to steady himself as the dizziness worsens.

"Don't give up now," he whispers.

Her eyes open slowly, the colour of her skin returning to its regular complexion. She turns her face slowly to see him. "I'm not planning on it," she whispers back.

Through the chaos of everything around them and all that they've been through, Chakotay manages a weak smile. "You had me worried there," he says.

"Sorry," she replies, blinking in the light. "I just felt so tired and dizzy that… I had to close my eyes for a bit."

He moves a hand to her face, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "Try to stay awake for now."

She nods in response. "We need to start thinking about a plan of some sort, something that–"

She stops, her words sliced into memories by the encroaching sound of footsteps.

Chakotay knows that any sort of escape plan is out the question now, and the resounding beat of the approaching feet bring nothing good for either one of them. The entrance looks remarkably haunting with the sound of footsteps sounding through it.

He looks back at Kathryn, who knows the sound as well as he does. "They're coming for me," he says to her.

The look on her face is something more resigned than understanding; the sad slope of her brow and the weak gleam in her eyes speaks of a deeper realization. "I know," she responds quietly, reaching up to his face as he settles himself next to her on the bunk. "You have to fight this, Chakotay. You can't let them win." She pauses, reaching for something that Chakotay can't place. "You have to make it back to _Voyager_. One of us has to."

Why was she telling him this? If he was the one being taken for questioning, then didn't she have a better chance of survival?

Unless…

_She thinks she's _dying, Chakotay realizes with sudden dread.

He pulls her against his chest, her head settling on his shoulder. "We'll both make it back to _Voyager_; we have too much to sort out to leave it all here," he says.

"You'll get no argument from me," Janeway answers.

The footsteps are just beyond the threshold now, angry and fierce in their approach.

"Don't make this a goodbye, Kathryn," he says, running a comforting hand along her shoulders. "Don't say it."

She raises her head from his shoulder, eyes locking with his. Her blue irises glimmer in the light above them, glowing with the familiar fire that he's always known her for. She moves away from him, gently pushing his arm off her shoulders and draping her legs over the edge of the bunk. She rests her head on the wall behind them for a moment, and then turns her face to his one last time.

"I won't," she whispers, her words falling like drops of precious rain.

The footsteps have stopped, and Chakotay somehow manages to make it to the entrance to the cell as the D'Chasther prepare to take him to what he believes may be his final interrogation.

* * *

The D'Chasther's voice crackles with anger and frustration as its fingers curl and uncurl repeatedly before Chakotay. This guard is clothed entirely in black armour, giving its fuchsia eyes a menacing glow. The cold blackness of the armour was slightly unsettling; it gave the impression that this D'Chasther had a rank or position different from the others, and that only gave Chakotay pause as to why this one had been chosen.

"I have seen many species in my lifetime, but never one quite so… unusual as yours," it says evenly. "It would seem that you are not from this sector."

"We're a long way from home," Chakotay answers.

The D'Chasther makes some sort of motion that Chakotay perceives as a nod, acknowledging his comment; though Chakotay holds a candle of doubt to the notion of him believing it.

"It certainly seems that way. Yet how might I confirm that information?" the alien replies, making a gesture of uncertainty. "You and your captain are not reliable sources of information, and your shuttle's files are encrypted. As much as I would like to believe you, Commander, there is simply no reliable evidence to say whether you are people far from home… or a scouting party sent as a prelude to possible invasion."

"What?" Chakotay asks, shocked by the apparent paranoia in this D'Chasther. "What do you mean 'unreliable information'? I've told you everything that I know."

"That may be true," the guard says, adjusting its dark gloves that snap against its skin, "but your captain gave a different account of details than you did. So I am left to wonder: which is the lie? Both cannot possibly be true, but both could possibly be lies."

Chakotay knows that he's cornered, and that Kathryn's answer most likely came as attempted damage control for his apparent betrayal. His entire plan has taken an unexpected and deadly turn, one that could cost both their lives if not rectified.

"Now, I'm sure that we could easily dispel any of these falsities with information from your shuttle," the guard leans close to Chakotay's face, turning its words into a hiss. "Give me the access codes to the files."

"No," Chakotay answers.

The guard recoils. "How unfortunate. I was told that you were rather cooperative during your last session." It turns away from Chaktoay and heads for the impenetrable darkness on the edge of the room. "I suppose that a little _persuasion_ is in order, then."

_No, not again_, Chakotay thinks into the darkness as he awaits the electric vipers that will soon slither into view. _Please, not again_.

A loud _bang_ resonates beyond the room, and the D'Chasther guard reappears, hands empty and moves beyond Chakotay's line of sight. More sounds joined the first, building in volume before the room breaks apart, allowing fresh light to spill in. The D'Chasther guard was knocked to the ground, accompanied by a sound that Chakotay recognized as phaser fire.

Tuvok appears from the chaos and cut the binds restraining Chakotay to the chair. "Commander, are you alright?"

Free of his bonds, Chakotay stood slowly, massaging his wrists. "For the most part. Where's the Captain?"

The Vulcan's expression was stoic, one hand on his phaser rifle and the other at his side. "We have no located her yet. Do you know where she is being held?"

"Yes. She's in a holding cell not far from this room; I can show you."

Chakotay moved for the door, but Tuvok places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"That will not be necessary, Commander. My security team and I will find Captain Janeway and bring her back to the _Delta Flyer_. You must go there now for medical attention."

Chakotay knows that arguing with the security chief is an exercise in futility, so he nods and moves to exit the room, indicating the direction to Kathryn's cell before being beamed away.

* * *

"No matter how many times I hear stories of xenophobic species, I will never understand what drives such pure paranoia," the Doctor says as he makes another scan of Chakotay with the tricorder. "Not to mention their unabashed barbarianism. What happened down there?"

"Let's just say it was not a pleasant stay," Chakotay replies.

"Now there's the understatement of the century," the Doctor replies. "Acute dehydration, three cracked ribs, not to mention countless bruises and lacerations. I assume that the Captain will have similar injuries?"

Chakotay swallows, trying to dissolve images of her scarred face from his mind before nodding slowly.

The Doctor's expression falls slightly then, as if to convey some sort of sympathy. "I see," he answers solemnly. He reaches for a hypospray from his medkit and pushes a vial of an unknown substance into it. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative for the time being until we get back to _Voyager_. You need to rest now, Commander. I assure you that I will do my best with the Captain once she's onboard."

"I'm not going to rest until the Captain is onboard," said Chakotay.

The Doctor gives him a disappointed glare in response, nearly rolling his eyes at Chakotay. "Very well."

A chime from the com disrupts the silence. "_Paris to Doctor."_

"Go ahead," the Doctor responds curtly.

_"They've found the Captain; I'm beaming them directly aboard." _

"Understood," the Doctor says as he readies his medical tricorder and an array of hypo sprays.

A pale shimmer bursts into the air of the room, illuminating four figures. Two are members of Tuvok's security team, adorned in their golden uniforms. Then there is Tuvok, who holds a bruised and broken Kathryn Janeway in his arms. He wastes no time in moving her to the other bio bed, and the Captain gives no objection. The Doctor flips open his tricorder and runs a scan, his frown deepening with each passing second.

"Acute dehydration, multiple burns to her torso, two fractured ribs, three _cracked_ ribs..." The Doctor lists off injuries continuously, each one causing a tighter knot to form in Chakotay's stomach. Her injuries were far more severe than his, explaining why she had seemed so much weaker back in the cell. The D'Chasther had interrogated her more severely… was it because of his lies? If that is the case, he would shoot the guard that did this to her at the first opportunity.

"Is she going to be alright?" Chakotay asks, hands curling tightly over the edge of his bed.

The Doctor turns, a deep crease forming on his brow. "She should make a full recovery, but we need to get her back to _Voyager_ so that I can treat her properly."

The _Flyer_ rocked fiercely a moment later, throwing everyone off balance and sending Chakotay's head spinning again. The lights flickered, shattering the space around them into pigments of illumination.

"What's going on out there?" The Doctor asks incredulously.

_"Paris to Tuvok, I need you at tactical; I've got two D'Chasther cruisers breathing down my neck up here."_

Tuvok raised an eyebrow before motioning towards one of his security personal to follow him to the main deck while another remained to guard the Doctor and his patients.

Chakotay pushed himself off the bunk, moving towards one of the consoles. 'We've got to get a message to _Voyager_ telling them that we're alright and that we've got company."

The Doctor stops him a few feet from the console, a gentle yet firm hand gripping his shoulder as he turns him away from the station and back into reality.

"Not so fast," he says, holding up a hypo spray. "Remember our agreement? The Captain is now safely aboard the _Delta Flyer_, which means that it is now time for you to rest. Or do you want to crack a few more of your ribs?"

Chakotay lets out a sigh, conceding to the Doctor's words. He knows that any attempt at resistance will indeed be futile, because the Doctor can easily enact one of his 'medical protocols'; or better yet, put that hypo spray to use. He's not used to everyone giving him the orders aside from Kathryn, but he supposes that in this case it is better to allow it rather than cause more unnecessary trouble for himself.

"Very well, Doctor," he says, heading to the bed. "Let's just hope we don't get blown to quarks before we get back to _Voyager_." He gave a half smile as he lies down.

"Hear, hear," the Doctor says nonchalantly. "I, for one, still have an aria to finish." He presses the hypo spray to Chakotay's neck, where it lets out a distinct _hiss_. He tries to roll his eyes at the Doctor's comment, but sleep takes him long before he can.


	4. Part IV

He dreams of obscurity, rippling with darkness and unknowns that he cannot perceive. It surrounds him, consumes him, and allows no impasse. He searches every direction, but there is no discernible exit, no distinguished path that he can traverse to escape. It hisses and slithers against his awareness, prowling around him like a jaguar.

A glow far away captures his attention. He focuses on it, watches it writhe against the inky darkness. The glow brightens, expanding against the ebon backdrop like an exploding star. It grows nearer to him, enough so that he can distinguish individual forms within the shocking brightness. They wriggle and squirm in the darkness, aqua eyes glowing against the iridescence of their scaly skin.

_Vipers_.

Chakotay turns away from them, running, pushing his feet against the ground with each stride. There is only the dark; he feels like he is going nowhere, stuck in this purgatory with enemies nipping at his heels. Hisses chase him, darkness awaits him, and he continues to run. He runs until there is nothing left to run to and the ground beneath him gives way to nothingness.

He falls, the darkness enveloping him in its chilling embrace.

* * *

He wakes to panic, blinded and confused as he rises. His heart pounds in his chest, lungs reaching for every ounce of air around him as a pair of hands grasp his shoulders. His vision clears slightly, and he recognizes the figure.

"Take it easy, Commander," the Doctor says. "You're on _Voyager_. You've been unconscious for about twenty hours."

He brings a hand to his face, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as he blinks away the stains of incarceration. He feels slightly refreshed, if not a little burdened. His body feels tired, despite the copious healing that the Doctor has done for him. He suspects that it comes from the knowledge of the demons he still has to face and whatever conflicts may ensue afterwards.

"The Captain?" Chakotay asks after a moment, dropping his hand to his side.

"Recovering," the Doctor says with a motion to the main medical bay. "She required a bit more medical care than you, evidently, but she's going to make a complete recovery."

"What about after we were rescued? The D'Chasther?"

"Ah, yes... That little skirmish was over rather quickly once we got back in range of _Voyager_," the Doctor said with a few quirks of his eyebrows. "Their ships were disabled fairly quickly, and we sent them back 'with their tails between their legs', as Mister Paris crudely described it."

Chakotay smiles briefly at the idiom, recalling Tom's fondness for twentieth century lore.

"Since you're essentially recovered, you can return to your quarters. There's a newly replicated uniform for you in the back if you wish to change," the Doctor says, moving to tend to the Captain.

"Thank you, Doctor," Chakotay replies, eager to get out of the medical jumpsuit that feels more like a fuzzy blanket over a pair of pants, a jumpsuit coloured a rather disturbing shade of blue.

He changes into the new uniform, glad to be rid of the scorched and stained one he'd worn previously. He walks back into Sickbay where the Doctor awaits him, a solemn expression on his face.

"The Captain wishes to speak with you," he says, blocking Chakotay's path. "She's rather… _insistent_ that it be now."

"I see," Chakotay says, casting a glance over to the medical bay. He sees Kathryn sitting up on the bio bed, shoulders set, hands planted on the bed and eyes glaring out into the room.

"Doctor," she says, her voice even and calm. "Would you excuse us, please?"

The Doctor nods, and Chakotay almost wishes that he wasn't being dismissed. Any time that Kathryn would request privacy between the two of them has usually resulted in confrontation, and the results are often less than desirable. Afterwards, there is always a long, drawn out silence between the two of them, lasting for days and on the rare occasion, spilling over into a week.

He knows that this time it is warranted, and an explanation on his part is definitely necessary. He and Kathryn are the only ones who know precisely _what_ happened in that facility, which makes the list of confidantes rather slim.

"Computer, deactivate EMH program," the Doctor says, vanishing into nothingness.

"So," Kathryn says, eyeing him with a less than favourable gaze. "This is where we end up."

Chakotay approaches the bio bed, placing a hand on the end as he meets her penetrating stare. He suspects that she's talking about where they've ended up after their ordeal, but he'll admit that it's a roundabout way of stating it.

"What do you mean?" he asks cautiously.

"We seem to be on opposite sides of a line, Chakotay. You made your choices and I made mine, though I was under the impression that we had settled our differences years ago," she says, her words tapering off as she reaches the end of her sentence.

"We did," Chakotay answers.

Kathryn places her hands in her lap, leaning forward slightly so that her hair brushes her shoulders. "Then why did you lie to me?"

Chakotay lets out a sigh, his shoulders falling under the weight of decisions past. He knows that the truth must be told, no matter how much Kathryn may hate him for it.

_And Spirits, she will probably hate me for it_, he thinks.

"I was trying to buy time for us, as well as give _Voyager_ an upper hand," he answers, one hand drifting to his hip.

"By telling the D'Chasther _about Voyager_? How is that meant to give them an advantage, Chakotay?"

"Because I gave them the wrong information," he answers. "I gave them inaccurate data about Voyager's systems and capabilities so that we could catch them with their guard down in a fight."

Her expression fills with shock, horror curling over the contours of her face as she takes in his admission.

"After what we went through on that planet – after trying to stay alive – you go behind my back and betray my trust with a foolish plan!" she snaps, anger rolling off the edge of her voice.

"I wasn't trying to betray your trust, Kathryn; I was trying to keep us alive!" Chakotay fires back, narrowing the gap between them. "And it clearly worked. I wasn't going to just wait around for them to slaughter us_ or_ for dehydration to kill us. I had to act to ensure our survival."

"And you simply didn't feel the need to consult _me_ before pursuing this little plan of yours?" she says, voice warbling on the edge of disastrous disappointment.

"I couldn't know if the D'Chasther were monitoring our conversation," he replies. "If they found out what I was planning, we wouldn't have been able to say anything without them questioning it, and that wouldn't have gone well for either of us."

"Regardless of what you thought was the just course of action, you still betrayed my trust down there," she answers, eyes fierce in their conviction.

Chakotay feels like a sparrow facing a tidal wave.

"I told you to not tell them _anything_, Chakotay. Nothing. That doesn't mean that you go throwing away false answers on chance like that."

"What was I supposed to do?" he says, throwing his hands up in frustration. "They were torturing us, Kathryn. I was not just going to sit around and watch them do those things to you, and I was not about to let them treat us like caged animals. We are more than that; we are human beings and we deserve to be treated as such."

"There you go with the 'human' trait again. It always seems to boil down to what's human to you, Chakotay. Sometimes we have to be more than that and be greater than our weaknesses." She hops off of the bio bed and approaches him, looking him straight in the eye. "Sometimes, it's being 'inhuman' that allows people to survive."

"You don't believe that," he replies.

"Really? What makes you say that?" she asks, crossing her arms.

"We've been stranded before, and you relied on principles that seemed pretty human to me," he answers, referring to the time when the majority of the crew had been trapped on a volatile desert planet by the Kazon.

"That was an entirely different situation," she replies. "There we had limited resources to work with. In that cell, we had nothing. We were supposed to stick to survival training and wait for _Voyager_ rescue us."

"And what if that had taken too long?" Chakotay answers her, his voice rising in volume. "What if we had succumbed to dehydration or to the interrogations before then? Would you still say that sticking to 'human' principles is a foolhardy choice?"

"I never said it was foolhardy," she retorts. "I said that it sometimes isn't the best course of action. Something that I learned when I tried to cover for your mistake," she says with a hard edge in her voice.

Chakotay's shoulders slump slightly as he realizes what she means. _She tried to give the D'Chasther_ false_ information because she thought that I had given them everything_, he thinks.

He's shocked that she thinks that he would betray her trust so blatantly. If anything, he would have guessed her to have caught on early and played along, but with no information between them to make the plan clear, it had backfired.

"You thought that I had given _Voyager_ up," he says, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"What else was I supposed to think?" she asks, a defeated expression sweeping over her face. It saddens him to think that she had felt so betrayed by him, when he was only trying to protect the both of them.

_You try out a plan and it leaves your captain questioning her trust in you, _he thinks to himself. _Great_.

He knows that she won't buy his opinion of her catching on to his plan, and that leaves him with no other reasonable options.

"I don't know," he replies. "I wasn't thinking about how you would react; I was thinking about how I was going to keep you _alive_. How I was going to keep both of us alive."

"And you didn't think that perhaps I would like to weigh in on those ideas?" she says, and Chakotay recognizes the disappointment in her voice. "We can't keep going like this, Chakotay. We can't keep arguing and disagreeing and going behind each other's backs. It's a wonder that we haven't fallen apart as a Command team already."

He knows that she is right. If they keep fighting and arguing like a couple of cadets then _Voyager_ will never make it home. They need to reach some sort of agreement to bridge the uneven ground between them.

"We do have our disagreements, and I for one would like us to be on a more even playing ground," he replies.

"I'm glad that we finally agree on _that_," she says with a smirk before her expression returns to seriousness. "First thing is trust; I need to be able to trust you, and you me. If we agree to honest with each other, no matter what the circumstances, can you commit to that?" she asks, her lips tight beneath the bridge of her nose.

"I can," he says. "However, I'd appreciate if you'd listen to my opinions on your decisions more often."

She recoils slightly, her chin drawing back over her neck. "I _do_ listen to your opinions. If you have something to say, I hear you out!"

"But you rarely take it into consideration," he replies. "You usually just listen and then cast aside, claiming your decision over mine. Sometimes you need to stop and listen to the words outside of your own head, Kathryn!"

He knows that he's bordering on insubordination, but if they're making a pact for their future, then this is the place for him to make his demands.

She breaks eye contact with him for a moment, nibbling on her lower lip for a few long moments before answering. "I know that I may have been slightly… _impulsive_ in my decisions in the past. I will try to consider your opinions with a little more heart from now on. Is that agreeable to you, Commander?"

"Yes," he answers.

"Good," she replies before looking to his uniform and then to her own attire. "You don't suppose that the Doctor replicated another uniform, do you? I'm really getting sick of this thing," she admits.

He chuckles. "They _are_ rather awful, aren't they?"

She gives him a mocking glance, mouth slightly open. "It's like half a jumpsuit with a shirt five sizes too big."

He laughs more this time. "I'm sure the Doctor can fix you up with one."

"I hope so," she admits, rubbing her neck. "One of us should probably get to the Bridge for the time being. Can I _trust_ you with that, Commander, or should I be warning Tuvok beforehand?"

This time he doesn't laugh, because her words strike with more of a stab than a playful joust. It's a warning to _him_ more than anyone; it tells him that beneath everything lies a distinct _don't-cross-me-again_ notice, blazing red in its importance.

"I think it's safe to let me off the leash," he says, keeping his tone calm beneath his words.

"Glad to hear it," she replies with a raised eyebrow. "Also, I'll leave the reports on the D'Chasther in your capable hands. It should be some _intriguing_ reading for you. As well as the report for our lost shuttle."

"Lost?" he asks, already knowing that the reports are punishment rather than protocol.

"The away team wasn't able to retrieve it," she replies nonchalantly. "And neither was _Voyager_. We had to leave it behind."

Another lost shuttle on his head. _Wonderful_, he thinks, already imagining the tally in the ship's computer.

"I'll see you on the Bridge soon, then," she says, clearly meaning it as an end to their conversation.

"Understood," he says and turns for the exit. He walks out of Sickbay and doesn't look back behind him. The new parameters set between them will hopefully smooth out some of the bumps in their relationship, but they are just the first steps in what he presumes will be a rocky road ahead. There are many deeper things that they didn't even touch on; things that will have to be addressed eventually.

For now, he has a second chance. But forgiveness, he knows, will come only with time.

* * *

_Fin_

* * *

**Thanks for reading, everyone!**


End file.
